The Phantom of the Opera Returns
by Eveiveneg
Summary: The Phantom is long dead, but his spirit has begun to haunt the old Gala Opera House where he used to reside. But then a Irene Thompson, a dancer, auditions for a play, things change, but for the better? {DISCONTINUED}
1. The Beginning

**The Beginning** _by Eveiveneg_

A dark haired woman stepped into the airplane. She looked down at the ticket in her hand, then around the airplane. Finding the row she was to sit in, she started toward it. "Excuse me." She said softly to the man sitting in the middle of the row. He looked up, fairly annoyed, then stopped when he saw her. "Can I help you?" he asked faintly. "Erm" she said uncomfortably. "Yes. Would you please move?" She waved towards the seats. "Oh, sure." The man stood up quickly and backed out of her way. "Thanks." she said gratefully. She moved over to her seat at the end and sank down on to it.

The man sat down next to her, then after a few minutes of silence, spoke. "I'm Brad. Brad Jenkins." He offered his hand. "Irene Thompson." She placed her hand in his and shook it firmly, then withdrew it. "So what are you going to France for, business or pleasure?" he questioned, smiling at her. Irene looked at him desperately. She wasn't good at making conversation with strangers. "A bit of both." She said quietly. "Really? And what business are you in?" She fingered her braid in anxiety. "Umm…nothing specifically. It's more of a general thing." He raised an eyebrow. "General? What does that mean?" She avoided gaze as she answered. "It means that I am in the arts and that I do general things, such as dancing, singing, and so on." She said in an almost inaudible tone.

Brad opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, a woman asked him if he knew where something was, and as he was distracted, Irene turned her head towards to the window to look at New York again. For some reason, though she didn't know why, she felt as if she wouldn't ever see her home again.

Ok, this is my first story and all, so if you don't like it, I'm sorry, but tough. This is probably what all of my stories are going to be like. All righty then.


	2. A Chance Meeting

**A Chance Meeting** _by Eveiveneg_

"…Thank you for joining us on American Airlines."

Irene jerked her eyes open. "Fell asleep, did we?" Brad asked kindly. She looked over at him. A shapely blonde was leaning her head on his shoulder, blinking sleepy eyes and yawning. Irene smiled to herself, happy that her airplane companion had found someone who seemed to appreciate him. Brad was a very nice man, and she hoped that the golden haired woman he sat next to liked him as much as he liked her.

"Excuse me." She tapped Brad on the shoulder. He looked around at her. "I don't mean to interrupt." She paused and smiled. "But could you tell me what time it is? I mean French time." Brad grinned and nodded. "It's…5 O'clock, PM." Irene winced, then thanked him. The airplane had landed an hour later than it was supposed to. She was late for her hotel reservations. She had another hour and a half in which to get to the hotel, or she was going to lose the reservations.

She gathered her belongings and stood up, waiting for a break in the line of people getting out of the plane. Soon she was out of the plane and hurrying down the stairs to get her baggage. As soon as she got them, she ran for the entrance of the airport. She bumped into people several times, causing rude remarks to come her way.

When she finally exited the building, she was suddenly dazzled by the view. The sky was an indigo color, tinged with delicate pink. All the trees' leaves were orange, red, and yellow, making it seem as if the entire street was on fire. Irene stood there, admiring the beautiful scene, and was unexpectedly struck by a high wind. Several more followed, until all of the branches on the trees were blown to one side. She started looking around for a taxi. Her hotel was 50 blocks away, and she had no desire to walk there, especially now that the fierce winds had started up. She began to wave for a taxi, and after a few desperate minutes, one pulled up a few feet away from her. She put her hand on her chest thankfully and hurried towards the cab. She reached for the handle, and was surprised to see another hand going for it as well.

She looked to her side, and saw a very tall man, his face tilted down and concealed by a shadow cast by a large hatsitting onhis head. He looked even worse then she felt, his worn coat being blown about in the wind. She felt an overwhelming pity for him, and decided to perform an act of kindness for him. "Please, sir." She yelled over the wind. "Take the taxi." She stepped out of the way. He looked over at her, his mouth open to respond, but suddenly stopped. He stared at her in a dazzled way, then shook his head, and shouted, "No. You need it more than I do. Please, take it." The wind was getting harsher by the second, and Irene made a fast decision. "How about we go together?" He looked thankful, and responded his agreement quickly. They piled their luggage in the trunk and got in, shutting the doors as fast as they could.

"Where to?" the driver asked in a heavy French accent. She told him the name of the hotel, and where it was, then the man recited his destination. Soon they were off, and Irene sighed and leaned back against the padded leather cushions of the cab. Now she was uncomfortable. She had asked the man to share the cab in a random act of kindness, and now she was stuck with a complete stranger.

"Well." The man's voice startled her out of her thoughts. She glanced at him; worried he was going to try to talk to her. She was right to be. "Erm… thank you for sharing the taxi with me." He said hesitantly. "Oh, sure." She said quietly, looking away. She was embarrassed, as well as being uncomfortable him since she didn't know him, she was extremely unnerved by the fact that he was so handsome. He had very light blonde hair and clear, azure eyes. He had an English accent, something she had always liked.

They were silent for a while, then he said, "By the way, my name is Nathan, Nathan Morrell." She gave him a small smile. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Morrell." He held up his hands, pleading. "Please, don't call me that. Just Nathan." She gave a small "All right", then went quiet again. Nathan bit his lip nervously, looking around. After doing this for several minutes, he finally opened his mouth, about to try and start a conversation again, when the cab stopped and the driver said, "Your hotel, Mademoiselle."

Irene looked incredibly thankful when she said, "Thank you." She _was_ very grateful. She was never very good in awkward situations like that. She got out quickly and gathered up her luggage from the trunk, and with a last wave and "Thank you", headed off towards the entrance.

Little did she know that as she did, Nathan leaned back in his seat and sighed, realizing how terribly their conversation had gone. "You know," the driver said. "That was the worst attempt at flirting I have ever seen or heard." Nathan sighed again. "I know." He ran his hands through his hair. "It's just, she was so _beautiful_, and sure of herself. I was tongue-tied." The driver shook his head. "You know, she seemed a bit shy to me. That might have contributed to the awkward silences." Nathan looked up hopefully. "You think so?" he asked. The driver shrugged. "It seemed so to me." "Then maybe there's some hope for me after all." Nathan said to himself.

They drove off, at the exact same time as Irene entered her hotel room, far up in the building. She set down her suitcases and sat down, pulling out a newspaper. As she began searching for auditions, she was thinking the same thing as Nathan, that perhaps there was some hope for her after all these years.

_Ok, I'll try to put up the next bit of the story soon, for those of you who, for some reason or other, like these stories_


	3. Audition

Sorry I haven't added anything for a bit. School and all. You know the drill. Ok, hope you like this next part.

**Audition** _by Eveiveneg_

A young man lounged in the middle of the Opera House's rows. His thick blonde hair hung low over his ears, hiding them. He stared out at the stage over the tops of his shoes, his clear blue eyes unfocused and dreamy.

"And…?" He looked up, startled out of his thoughts. "Huh?" he said. The man next to him whistled low and grinned. "You _do_ have it bad. Did you already forget what we were talking about?" He stared at him blankly. "Come on, Morrell. The girl, remember? The one you met last week coming in from Albania?" Nathan blinked at him and mouthed "Oh".

"Well," he started. "Like I said, she wasn't too short, but not real tall either. She had this amazing hair, shoulder-length, a really dark brown color. Kind of like those ebony statues. And her eyes…" he paused. "They were even darker than her hair. So brown they were almost black. They looked like they belonged to a person who carried the weight of all the sorrows of the world on their shoulders."

He stopped again, remembering the young woman. She'd been so nice to him, so kind. He had given up all hope of her actually being shy, as the taxi cab driver had suggested. She had probably just wanted to get away from him.

"Yo, Morrell." Rick waved his hand in front of his face. "Come on, finish the story." Nathan made a face at him, then continued. "I'd just come out of the airport, when the winds started up. I looked around for a taxi, saw one, and headed towards it. I was about to open the door, when this other hand came pretty much out of nowhere. I was just about to tell them off for trying to take other people's rides, when she spoke. She offered me the taxi, and I turned to thank her…" He ran a hand through his hair. "I was just, like, whoa. Totally struck dumb. Like in all those books and movies where the guy sees this girl and…_wham_. Like that. I told her she should take it. She seemed to deliberate for a moment, then said we could share it. I told her sure, and then we were off."

He sighed. "I tried to talk with her, you know, to find out about her. Like what her name was, and where she was from, and all that. But she just answered my questions, then went quiet. Just before I was about to try again, we got to her hotel. She looked really thankful as she got out, too. Like she didn't want to spend another second in that car with me. The driver told me that it was the saddest attempt he had ever seen at flirting."

Rick laughed. "That's just too funny." Nathan glared at him. He shrugged. "Sorry, but it's true."

An ear-shattering shriek filled the entire room. The two men winced. They looked back at the stage where a woman stood, her hand held high before her as she sung. The rest of the people in the room had lost all patience with her long ago. Even the actual directors, who were supposed to be listening to her weren't paying attention. They seemed to be playing tabletop football. Yep, Nathan thought, they were. They were pumping their fists in the air every time they made a field goal.

Finally the shrill squeaking stopped. One of the directors looked up, bored. "Yes, yes. Nice job. We'll be in contact with you." Apparently she hadn't notice the sarcastic tone in his voice, since she giggled happily and skipped off the stage.

"All right," the director said. "Number 334. You're up next."

Nathan prepared himself for another shrill and off-key song. He turned his head to the curtains. A young woman came out of the draperies, slowly approaching the center of the stage. She'd tied her curly dark hair back in a ponytail, bringing attention to her exquisite features. The darkness of her eyes was emphasized by the paleness of her face. Her small nose and high cheekbones caught the attention of many of the men in the room.

Nathan breathed in sharply. Rick turned to him. Seeing the direction of his gaze and his expression, he whistled long and low. "So that's her, huh? You weren't kidding when you said she was something."

Her boots clicked on the wooden stage as she approached the center. Finally she stopped and turned to the men and women in the front row. "Your name?" One of them asked her. "Irene Thompson." She told them quietly. "What are you trying out for?" One woman asked her. "Chorus." She replied. "All right. What will you be singing for us?" She looked directly at the head director's face as she said, "_Sweet Child_."

They looked up at her. "Excuse me?" One asked. "_Sweet Child. _It's a lullaby." Two of them looked at each other. "A lullaby?" One woman questioned. "Yes. Is there a problem?"

"Oh no." A few of them chuckled. "Please, go right ahead."

"Thank you." She stood up straight and closed her eyes. After a few moments of silence, she began. Before she started singing, there had been a lot of noise, people talking about this and that. But as soon as she began, everything went entirely silent. Her clear soprano voice rang throughout the auditorium.

_Quiet, sweet child_

_Silence your weeping_

_Still your tears_

_Wake from your sleeping_

_Realize your loss_

_Realize your gain_

_Come out from shadows_

_Don't hide again_

_Let loose your soul_

_From pits vast_

_Escape, finally_

_Be free at last_

She opened her eyes, but she didn't seem finished yet. She continued, her voice growing in volume.

_Join me in this_

_Circle of life_

_Open your heart_

_Stay free of strife_

_Answer your calling_

_Draw away from the darkness_

_Dance in joy_

_Escape from sadness_

_Laugh with me_

_Take life by the reins_

_You'll taunt the shadows_

_Trying to catch you in vain_

Her voice began to soften, decreasing in sound and volume.

_Raise your hands_

_Fly free from your prison_

_Stay by my side_

_Stand with me, listen_

_Listen…_

_Listen…_

_Listen to your soul _

_Fly and soar!_

_Asking to be free _

_And nothing more_

_You let loose your soul_

_From pits vast_

_Escaping, finally_

_Being free at last_

Her voice had dropped to nearly inaudible, and when it stopped, there was silence in the Opera House. Then, suddenly, someone started clapping, then another person, until the entire group present was applauding Irene.

She seemed to start from the reverie she'd been in since she'd started her song. She blinked at her furiously clapping audience, then smiled.

Though she was unaware of it, the smile caused her to become even more striking. Her eyes, though still filled with sadness, suddenly gained a tinge of happiness.

"Thank you, thank you, Miss Thompson! Well done, well done!" The head director had stood up while cheering with the rest of the group. "We shall indeed be in contact with you."

"Thank you, monsieur." Irene murmured. She nodded to them a last time, then made her way to the back stage, taking pride in the fact that she had been applauded by the entire room, and embarrassed because of the looks she received from the other girls and young women waiting for their turn.

"That girl has an amazing voice." Rick said to Nathan as they sat down again. "With that voice she'll be getting a larger part than part of the chorus." Nathan silently agreed with him. And he'd also get another chance to talk to her. Irene. It was a beautiful name.

And the next time he saw her, he wasn't going to make a fool of himself, like before. And she wouldn't want to get away from him this time.

Sorry. This is kind of going slow right now. I'll try and get another chapter up soon.


	4. Dream

Sorry, this one's kind of short. I also apologize for how slow this is going so far. I promise, I'll try to get more chapters up soon.

**Dream** _by Eveiveneg_

_November 11_

_Well, I got in. Amazing, I know. But here's the most amazing part of all: I got the leading role. I don't know how it happened. I was only trying out for a part in the chorus, and two days later, I was got a phone call from the director, telling me I received the largest role. I'm excited, of course. _

_But…I'm also uneasy. For some reason it doesn't feel right. Like I shouldn't have this part…_

_Wednesday is the first day of practice. I'm a bit apprehensive to go there. I thought I saw that man from the airport there…Nathan Morrell. I don't know why, but he makes me nervous, even more than I usually am with strangers. It's confusing. _

_Anyway, I can't wait to go to practice, Nathan Morrell aside. It'll be my first play since getting out of school. God, that was a horrible year. I was forced to work as a cashier at Gap. I never want to go near another clothes store for pre-teens again. I'll just go swallow some cyanide. _

_Well, I'd best go get some dinner and get to bed. I have a lot of things to get done before Wednesday._

_Midnight_

_I just had the strangest dream. I was on the roof of a large building. There were statues of winged horses and soldiers all around, painted in gold, and silver, too. It was twilight, and the stars were just beginning to show. A man and a woman were there, standing close together. The woman was small and dark-haired, half dressed in some sort of costume. The man was tall and long- haired, all the way to his shoulders. He was wearing dress clothes, you know, dark pants, a white shirt and evening coat._

_The woman was trying to tell the man something, but without success. He didn't seem to want to listen to what she said. She spoke of a man, deformed beyond imagination. But then she said he had a beautiful voice, and it was obvious that it had entranced her. She was scared, though. She was trembling, obviously frightened, and clutching a rose. A rose with a black ribbon tied around it. _

_Then…then the man came towards her and took her in his arms, comforting her. They professed their love for each other, and then the kissed. It was very odd, seeing two people confess to having such passion for each other. They began to talk of leaving with each other after the…play? They left, happy and ecstatic. _

_But, as soon as they left, a man came out of the shadows of one of the statues. He wore dress clothes as well, but with a cape. A white mask covered half of his face. He was very handsome, with black hair, and a tall, looming figure. He came over to where the couple had stood moments before and knelt down. He picked up the rose that the woman had dropped when the man had embraced her. He brought it close to his face and held it there, the petals touching his cheek. He seemed heart-broken, and he whispered a name. Christine. He said it in such a sad and despairing way that I came over to him and tried to put my hand on his shoulder, I guess to comfort him. I really don't know what was going through my head at the moment. _

_But in any case, it didn't matter. My hand went through his shoulder, and he didn't even look up. The man and woman's voices drifted up to us, speaking of a life together. The masked man suddenly started to crush the rose's petals. They drifted down to the ground slowly. He looked up from the rose and softly, but clearly, declared revenge upon the two lovers. He began to laugh, louder and louder, until it became more and more maniacal and insane. _

_All of a sudden, I was inside alarge opera house. I was on the stage, next to the dark-haired woman, who was now in full costume. I heard that same laughter from moments before, and looked up. A large chandelier was rocking back and forth, flickering. I saw the masked man on the platform that was around the chandelier. He was cackling like a mad man, obviously delighted with the spectacle below, the entire audience shrieking and scrambling about. _

_He shouted, "Go!" And then the chandelier came loose. It was, I saw, going to fall right on top of me. I closed my eyes and hurled myself out of the way. I fell against the wood of the stage and opened my eyes just as the chandelier crashed at the woman's feet._

_And then I was awake, staring at the ceiling. _

_What was that? What does it mean? _

_That opera house, the one where the chandelier came down, I recognized it. It's the Opera Populaire, the opera house that I auditioned at and where the play will be performed._

_I think that woman, the one who was on the roof with the man, was Christine. The one the masked man was so heart-broken over. But the question is, who is Christine? Who were those people? And why am I dreaming about them?_


	5. Author's Note

_**Author's Note:**_

Ok. I haven't been so into this story as of late, so I've decided to discontinue it. These are the reasons why:

1. Only three people have read it. If there were any others, I wouldn't know, since they never reviewed.

2. The story sucks.

3. Recently, I haven't been as in to Phantom of the Opera. No, no, I still do love it. It's just…I'm not inspired to write about like I was before.

4. My other story, which I started writing two or three weeks ago, is doing way better. I've gotten over forty reviews! This just tells me how bad the story is. I started this story two months ago. A couple people liked it, but beyond them…Nothing.

So there you go. My reasons, which are entirely legitimate. I might continue it, but only if encouraged to do so greatly. But don't get your hopes up. Review the chapters that are up if you want.

Eveiveneg


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